


Les Retrouvailles

by ImaRavenclaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Always Robert Pattinson, Amnesia, Attraction, Bisexual Male Character, Cedric Diggory Dies, Cedric Diggory-centric, Cinnamon rolls, Crushes, Dementors, F/M, Fifth year Cedric, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Graduated Oliver, Gryffindor, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Hogwarts Third Year, Hufflepuff, M/M, Max Irons as a faceclaim for Wood, Nice Job Breaking It Hero, POV Third Person, Puddlemere United, Quidditch, Secret Relationship, Seventh Year Oliver, Sixth year Cedric, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, The First Task, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Top Oliver Wood, Triwizard Tournament, cho chang is mentioned, inconvenient attraction, top!oliver, we're all sad I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaRavenclaw/pseuds/ImaRavenclaw
Summary: The night of Cedric's 16th birthday starts a turbulent nearly two-year love affair between him and Oliver Wood. Their relationship is complex and goes through many changes throughout their time together. Things get even more complicated with Oliver needing to keep the secret of their relationship, their first rupture, and Cedric's decision to participate in the Triwizard TournamentFor Tatapb's The Trope Stew challenge on HPFT
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Oliver Wood, Katie Bell/Oliver Wood
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Les Retrouvailles

**Author's Note:**

> Retrouvailles is a French expression that means finding someone you love again. This could mean anything from a family member to a beloved friend or an ex-lover. Retrouvailles are not always easy but they are for the best and are (eventually) always positive. 
> 
> I picked this title because it seemed to fit with the lovers finding each other again, in both heart and head. And Oliver finding his memories after a long battle with memory loss. 
> 
> MY PROMPTS (the five I used anyway) WERE... Drumroll please.
> 
> 1\. amnesia (Bah bah bahhhhh. You hit your head and now you can't remember something you never told anyone.)
> 
> 2\. smut (you're lucky Umbridge isn't here yet to charge you two with missuse of the Prefect's bathroom.)
> 
> 3\. inconvenient attraction (He's the captain of one house team and you're the captain of the other? And on top of that you're screwing? Man how did this happen?!)
> 
> 4\. FWB (Just an agreement to keep your love life out of quidditch. Not like anyone's going to fall in love *cough* Cedric *cough*)
> 
> 5\. nice job breaking it, hero (You wanted him back and the universe wasn't such a big fan of your methods of pursuit I guess. Now you get to be even more miserable than you were before!)
> 
> Songs
> 
> It’s Amazing by Jem (excluding the chorus)  
> This Old Dog by Mac DeMarco  
> How Can You Mend a Broken Heart by Al Green

It was the violence of the wind nipping at his ankles and blowing through his ears that made him want to crawl back into the warmth of that first September night. He stood stoic, shifting from foot to foot as the people around him sang the Hogwarts song. Ludo Bagman’s voice boomed in his ears. He shut his eyes tight. When they opened again, Cedric Diggory was there.

_I don’t love you._

Oliver knew that he should not have come. All of the feelings he’d tried to leave behind came rushing back in. The first task of the Triwizard tournament had begun, but he wasn’t paying attention. He felt like he was drowning. Cedric’s blue eyes shot up towards the stands. Oliver did not let himself believe that he was looking for him. Instead, he clenched his fists and tried to stay in the moment. 

But there he was, wandering the halls on last year’s September night. He remembered it better than he imagined he would if the whole story was written out on the palm of his hand. It was midnight and Oliver had found himself sleepless and heading to the kitchen for some fuel to continue working on his quidditch plays. He was walking past the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room when light came into the hall and music flooded in after it. Cedric, a year younger than he was now, stumbled out from behind the barrels, laughing and throwing a look back to his friends.

When he turned around he saw Oliver and his eyes filled with questions. “Wood? What are you doing down here?”

Oliver had always felt skeptical talking to members of the other quidditch teams, particularly the captains, but the question seemed innocent enough. “Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d get a snack.”

Cedric stood taller and adopted a surly tone. “Well,” he cleared his throat authoritatively, “I should report you for being out after hours.” Oliver saw the glinting prefect’s badge he had proudly snapped into his robes. Right, Cedric had been awarded captainship of the Hufflepuff quidditch team and a prefect position. He narrowed his eyes at him, then looked questioningly at the noise-filled common room behind them. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t report you. I was kidding. And it’s a birthday party,” his teeth were whiter than fresh snow. 

“Yours?” Oliver asked. 

“Hmm-hmm,” Cedric bit his lip and nodded. Oliver inhaled sharply. Cedric ran a hand through his hair.

“Happy birthday,” Oliver said, then continued his stroll off towards the kitchens. Cedric stood there. The air was dense with a strange feeling that neither of the young men understood but both felt. Oliver wanted to turn around, but he took a breath and controlled his impulses. Cedric looked up at the basement ceiling. The night sky glinted outside through one of the circular windows at the top of the wall. Cedric loved where his common room was. It was nice and protected by being one floor down but there were still good views outside of the high windows. He debated just sitting on one of the barrels and catching his breath before going back into his party, but then he had an idea. 

His feet made clacking sounds on the cold stone as he jogged to the kitchen. “Wood!” He called, swinging himself past the kitchen doorframe. The room was bathed in warm light but still held lots of shadowy areas. Oliver was spreading peanut butter on toast. “Do you want some of my birthday cake?” His voice lacked its usual dominance. He found himself shy and flustered around the older boy. Oliver _was_ intimidating. He was tall and broad. His face was kind but his eyes always had this competitive glean in them that made you afraid to challenge anything he said.

“Sure,” he threw Cedric a little smile. The blonde came over to the fridge and opened it. He squatted down and slid his fingers under the gold-painted cardboard, pulling the leftovers out. Oliver could tell that it had been a very large cake. It’d have to be with all of the students in Hufflepuff. Cedric reached for Oliver’s peanut butter knife and then thought better of it, grabbing a new one so as not to cross-contaminate. Oliver noted it. He thought that was very smart. It always astonished him how someone so young could think to remember such things. Most people he knew did not often think about other people enough to realize that a small, seemingly meaningless decision could have such an effect on someone’s life.

The piece that Cedric gave Oliver had a nice curved blue _C_ on it. “C for Cedric?” He asked. He knew as soon as he’d said it that it was probably the stupidest question Cedric had ever been asked. He merely chuckled.

“No actually, it’s uh, _C_ for Cocksucker.” Both of them let out small breaths of laughter. They stayed in the kitchens in silence for a few moments. Cedric enjoyed the break from the party and Oliver happily feasted on the cake, which was a rich vanilla flavour.

When they parted ways Oliver left him tapping the Helga Hufflepuff rhythm onto the barrels. He was halfway down the hall on his way back to the stairwell that would take him to Gryffindor tower when Cedric shouted, “Hey!” He turned to face him. There he was, a glint in his beautiful blue eyes. Oliver suddenly became self-conscious. Did he have birthday cake on his face? “Don’t be a stranger,” Cedric said to him, smiling with the slightest sliver of a smirk. 

And there he was, scrambling over rocks and rubble. He definitely wasn’t a stranger anymore, but Oliver didn’t know what to call him. He was finally snapped out of his flashbacks by a collective scream from the crowd. Cedric had just dodged a huge burst of fire from the dragon that he was fighting. Oliver was still clenching his fists. It was so hard that his nails drew blood from the fragile first layers of skin on his palms. There was a symphony of gasps and sighs of relief. Oliver kept his eyes fixed on his target. If anything happened to Cedric, he wanted to be the first to know. Finally, Cedric found his bearings. He drew his wand and shot it at a nearby rock. A golden dog sprung from the rubble, leaping across the rocks and catching the dragon’s eye. The dragon reared its head and started to sniff at the dog, breathing fire but not quite catching it. Its tail caught a flame and started to go up but the dog sat hard in the dirt, stifling it.

Meanwhile, Cedric threw himself with all that he could towards the egg that the Swedish Short-Snout dragon had been guarding. Running with all he could, he preyed the dragon wouldn’t shift its attention back to him. Up in the stands, Oliver was praying for the same thing.

The plan worked for a while, but Cedric tripped and a stray piece of rock fled down a hill, making a loud _clack!_ every time it made contact with the ground. The dragon shot a huge burst of flame at him. Cedric let out a pained yell that came from a deep place inside of him. His face was fried all on one side. He clutched his cheek and his body writhed in pain, but he kept trudging through the rocks until he found the egg with his hand. Bagman, who’s commentary had previously been ignored by Oliver,boomed again and a team of Dragon keepers flooded the arena, neutralizing the dragon and taking Cedric out on a stretcher. Oliver couldn’t remember many moments where he’d seen him so vulnerable. There he was, screaming and shouting, his face looking like an old piece of lamb. There was no face or feeling there. In that moment he just looked like a burnt bag of meat and Oliver couldn’t stand it. He stood, shaking, and ran from the stands, trying not to be seen. 

He didn’t know what to do. There was no way that he could go see Cedric with the way events had unrolled between them. But at the same time, he needed to make sure that he would be alright. 

Oliver, his intestines knotted up, decided to leave. He didn’t think that he could bear the pain of seeing Cedric again. When he got home he ran to the bathroom. Curling himself around the toilet he dry heaved until he didn’t feel like puking anymore. When he finally managed to feel sleepy, it was two in the morning. He found a sleeping draught in one of his kitchen cabinets and took it so that he’d be well-rested for his practice 

His sleep was uneasy and filled with memories. They were so accurate that when he woke the next morning he was surprised he hadn’t been awake all night. 

Since Cedric’s 16th birthday, the two boys hadn’t exchanged many words. Occasionally Cedric tossed him a friendly glance across the Great Hall. Oliver always smiled back, but he felt strange about Cedric. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever they locked eyes that he just didn’t understand yet.

It wasn’t until that night that he figured it out. 

Neither of them really knew how it had happened. Cedric was sitting in the warm bath with a book, unwinding after his team’s quidditch practice. It was lonely in the dorm because all of the fourth to seventh years were in the Room of Requirement partying. He’d decided that a nice bubble bath in the Prefect’s Bathroom might do his nerves some good. He was so worked up about school and his second game as captain. All he’d wanted all week was a break. Some peace and quiet. It wasn’t exactly what he got.

Oliver seemed to have had the same idea. He came in, a towel thrown over his shoulder, whistling. The sounds of clacking feet and the whistles bounced off of the wall. Cedric set his book to the side and scooped up some bubbles to hide his chest. He wasn’t embarrassed about his body or anything, on the contrary, he was very confident. He just always felt weird when there were other people around and he was in some sort of state of undress. 

“Oliver?” A shocked look swam up from the water and onto Cedric’s face. He was surprised to find him here when there was drinking and hooking up going on in such a close radius. If he didn’t have a match coming up Oliver was not known to pass up a party. 

“Hey,” he grinned. He stretched his limbs out and hooked his towel, starting to unbutton his jeans. Then he remembered how conscious Cedric always was of other people. “You don’t mind right?”

Cedric looked down sheepishly. “Nope. Nope, not at all.” 

“Great.” 

Cedric looked out the window as Oliver undressed. He could hear the cotton fabric sliding across his body. Every detail was being hard pressed into his brain. Before he knew it the water was rippling towards him. There was the small sound of bubbles popping and Oliver’s deep sigh of relief as he lowered himself slowly into the scalding water. Cedric felt his face redden. He wanted to sink himself down so that Oliver wouldn’t see his unusual tint against his normally pale complexion. But the room was dark and he really doubted that anything could be seen. 

Oliver bent forward, dipping his face in the water. He emerged again, sliding his fingers between the strands of his drenched chestnut hair and pushing it back. Water droplets slid down the curves of his biceps. He blinked a few times, trying to free his eyes from water and soap. Cedric wasn’t sure if it was because he’d never seen Oliver this way before, or because he’d been craving intimacy with no sign of relief for the past months, but he felt a sudden stirring in his groin. Shocked, he let out a small breath and quickly pressed a palm down on himself. 

Oliver heard the sound and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?” He asked. Cedric nodded, almost shuddering. He reached his arms out and drew more bubbles towards him. Oliver laughed. “Do you think I’m checking you out or something?” His ego felt a little bruised, but he was sure that wasn’t why Cedric had created himself a bubble fortress. 

Cedric squeezed his eyes shut. He felt so awkward. “Is this really happening right now?” He managed to push out. There was tension all over his body. Both of them let out awkward laughs. “Um, so were… Were you at the party?” The question bounced off the walls.

“Huh?” Oliver laughed. Cedric tried repeating it but there was so much space between them in the bath that anything they said too loudly fell straight into the water around them. “Maybe, if I moved closer,” Oliver said. The water swished around him. He used his arms to tread the chest-high water, walking over to Cedric. 

Oliver picked a spot about a foot away from Cedric. There were two benches in the large tiled bath, one on each side that wrapped around their halves and met at the pairs of stairs allowing exit from the baths. 

“Did you go to the party?” 

“I was there for a little bit, but then I just wasn’t feeling it, I mean, with all of that insane Sirius Black shit going on, y’know?” Shrugged Oliver. 

“Yeah,” Cedric said. They spoke in soft tones now, avoiding the echoing of the bathroom. Whenever one of them let out any kind of sound the bathroom shouted in protest, punishing their ears.

They talked for a while. The night rolled forward and the slow moon rose to its apex. Cedric was watching Oliver talk about quidditch; not his plays or strategies, Oliver would never divulge that kind of information, but just his love of it. Cedric was astounded by the passion that flooded his eyes. Oliver paused and brushed a drenched stray hair back behind his ear, then rubbed his nose little. He was left with a small bit of foam that Cedric tried to ignore but found very distracting.

He reached out, pressed a thumb to Oliver’s upper lip. “You have a little—” That’s when Oliver grabbed the hand in front of his face and dragged Cedric towards him in one quick jerking motion. Cedric grimaced as his arse scraped across the cracks in the tiles. “Argh,” he winced, but his pain became inconsequential when the moment was not longer murky and he realized what it was that Oliver was doing. The captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, a little over a year his senior, was moving his mouth almost violently around Cedric’s. His eyes flew open and he gasped straight into Oliver’s mouth. Then, without even thinking about it, without having any clue how this had come about or even what was really going on, he gripped the hair in the back of Oliver’s head and urged him to get on top. When their lips stopped touching Oliver let out a gasp of pleasure. He spread his legs and pressed himself as close as he could to Cedric. The other boy’s eyes rolled halfway back into his head. 

“Ungh-my God!” Oliver snaked his hand behind Cedric and used it to push him even closer. Both of them let out hard breaths and Cedric could feel a warmth spreading up from his crotch and up through his body. If he didn’t do something soon he would leave Oliver, who was undoubtedly more experienced than he was, unsatisfied. Cedric couldn’t live with the embarrassment. He slid himself back up against the tile and stopped Oliver’s rolling hips with his hands. “Wait,” He huffed.

“Is this not okay?” Oliver looked concerned. He pulled back as soon as he sensed any hesitation from Cedric. 

Cedric shuddered and shook his head, “No, it’s not that, it’s just… Maybe we could go somewhere else?”

“But the Room of Requirement is…” Oliver looked confused. He was trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. What he came up with usually never would have been a suggestion, but tonight it just might work “Yeah I know where we could go.” The two boys drained the tub, rinsed themselves with cold water and got out of the bath. The water cooled the warmth left in Oliver’s body, so he didn’t bother putting his boxers back on. When the two of them were robed up they gathered their soaps and towels and stuck their heads out of the door to make sure no one was walking around away from the party. Oliver took the lead, taking Cedric’s warm hand and leading him up the floors of Hogwarts. They made a right for Gryffindor tower and rushed up the stairs.

They stopped in front of the Fat Lady. “Fortuna Major,” Oliver told her. She scrutinized Cedric.

“Is that a Hufflepuff?”

“Fortuna Major!” Oliver whisper-shouted through gritted teeth.

“He’s a handsome lad. Tell his girlfriend to be careful.” Then she swung open and revealed the Gryffindor Common Room. Cedric gave her a little wink as Oliver pulled him into the area. 

No one was in except for Hermione Granger’s cat, who was snoozing happily next to the crackling fire. All of the younger students were already in bed and all of the older students at the party. Oliver and Cedric had to stop themselves from laughing too hard as they flew up the steps to the Seventh Year boys dorm. “Are you sure that no one is here?” Cedric said in a sort of whiny voice. Oliver laughed huskily.

“Percy?” He called. No answer. He probably was not at the party but rather in the library or the corridor, having a late-night study session. “No one,” Oliver smiled as he took Cedric’s hands again and brought him into the room. They went deep into the room, nearly to the back of it. “This is my bed,” Oliver motioned at the one second closest to the window.

“It’s nice,” whispered Cedric, who hadn’t even looked at it. He leaned down to kiss Oliver, who enjoyed the kiss for a moment before pushing Cedric back onto his bed. Cedric could feel his cock hardening again in his pants. 

“Take your trousers off.” Commanded Oliver. Cedric was happy to oblige, taking his pants, shirt, and robes off as well. Oliver drank the sight of him. Hungrily, he leaped back on top of Cedric. “What do you want me to do?” He drawled alluringly. 

“Anything,” Cedric gasped, “Just touch me!” He grabbed Oliver’s hand from the side and intertwined their fingers, then brought the hand down to his shaft. Oliver’s other hand was furiously ruffling Cedric’s golden locks. They thrust against each other, moaning and putting their hands wherever they wanted to. 

They worked each other up so much. “Ced, put your feet up,” Oliver said, brushing away a small piece of spit that remained from their last kiss. Cedric obeyed. He put his feet up and spread his legs, knowing what was going to happen. He shivered in excitement as Oliver kissed the inside of his thigh, higher and higher, maintaining eye contact the whole time. When he had Cedric begging, Oliver put his mouth on him, licking one clean stripe up his cock and taking a mouthful. He had to keep his hands firmly around Cedric’s shins to steady him. His thighs were shaking violently. He couldn’t help himself, he’d never experienced this kind of sensation before. It was incredibly different than the predictable rhythm of his own hand.

“Ah hahh,” Cedric moaned. “I’m gonna—” He was wrapped in warmth. It was the most comfortable discomfort he’d ever experienced. As Oliver came up beside him, he curled his toes into the red comforter. “I’m sorry,” he said to Oliver.

“Don’t be,” Oliver smirked. “You taste good.” Cedric blushed as Oliver wiped Cedric’s come away. He blushed even more when he noticed that Oliver was still hard, and had to ask him if he wanted some help. Oliver nodded happily, rubbing himself up against Cedric’s stomach. Cedric didn’t know what to do. He’d never even been with a girl like this before. He looked at Oliver inquisitively. “Here,” Oliver took Cedric’s hand and spat in it. “I’ll show you.” 

The memory ended when Oliver woke. There was an uncomfortable pressure that he couldn’t satisfy. He would feel too guilty if it was from that memory. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore and he wanked himself off, crying when he came. His practice would not start until that evening. He had a whole free day, but it was too early to get up and he was mad that the sleeping draught had not worked the way it was supposed to. Perhaps it was expired. He would have to talk with his team healer. 

Instead of getting up, Oliver curled up and stared out his bedroom window as the sun rose, bit by bit. He closed his eyes tightly, letting stars form in the dark until his eyes seared in pain. That was the first time they had been together. Oliver wondered why that memory had come back to torture him now. At first, he thought it was just the way things were. Then, he started to get a strange feeling that it was a sign.

It had all unrolled rather inconveniently, their relationship. At least for the sake of feelings. After their first tryst, they spent time wrapped up in each other’s arms. Cedric slept with Oliver that night, their anonymity secured by a locking charm on the heavy curtains around the bed. The next morning, when Oliver woke up, he realized that Cedric had snuck off at dawn. He didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved. When he rolled himself over to fall back asleep he hit a note that been left on the pillow. It was just two words in tightly scrawled cursive. Elegant and simple.

Thank you.

-C.

Oliver smiled. And then he was hit but a sudden pang. A rush of questions flooded in. Would they keep doing this? How would this affect quidditch? Was Cedric in love with Oliver? And for that matter was Oliver in love with Cedric? Nothing was clear in that moment.

Weeks went by. The only contact they had was when Cedric tried to forfeit Hufflepuff’s win. Harry had been attacked by the dementors and he felt it was only right that there be a rematch. Oliver refused. Other than that, it wasn’t until late November that they even spoke to each other directly again. It wasn’t as if Cedric was ignoring him, they weren’t in the same year or any of the same classes. The only times they saw each other were in passing in the halls or when their teams switched out for quidditch practice outside on the pitch. They were always surrounded by a sea of people. Oliver did not think he wanted Cedric to be his boyfriend, but he missed him. It was a strange feeling.

The second Saturday of that December Gryffindor had trained right at dawn and then cleared out before the Death Eater’s morning rounds. Oliver’s team was quick in the change rooms, but he took his time. He was trying to avoid going back to the common room. He was sure that the groups of studying sixth and seventh years would make him feel guilty for not caring about school. That’s how it had always been though. Everyone did school and Oliver played quidditch. And he wasn’t playing quidditch he was working on his plays or his strategy, even when he hadn’t been captain. 

He took a nice long shower. When he got out and had finished getting dressed, Cedric came in. He smiled and said, “I thought you’d be here.”

“You were looking for me?” Oliver asked. Cedric nodded, blushing.

“Can we talk?” Cedric went towards him. Oliver thought that Cedric would take his hand, but the taller boy kept a foot of distance. Discomfort rumbled in Oliver’s body. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. That always happened when he was anxious. He frequently had to pick a time to breathe before games so that it wouldn’t happen during a match.

“Aye,” he said. Cedric looked hesitant. 

“So…” Cedric chuckled awkwardly, “All this shite with Sirius Black huh?” Oliver frowned at him and bit his lip.

“Don’t tell me you came here to talk about Sirius Black.” He said, giving Cedric a dead-serious stare. Cedric shuffled nervously and played with his sleeves. His fingers were elegant and long and Oliver couldn’t help but remember those fingers all over him a month and a half ago.

“Not exactly,” he mumbled. “Was what happened a mistake?” Oliver was shocked by the suddenness of the inquiry. He knew exactly what Cedric was talking about. 

“No, no it’s just…”

“We can’t be in a relationship.”

“Exactly,” Oliver sighed. Both boys stood in silence for a moment. 

“But I was thinking,” Cedric said, trailing off. Oliver raised his eyebrows. “I really liked what happened. And I really trust you. I mean, as long as we don’t let quidditch get in the way, maybe we could…” Cedric raised his eyebrows too, but in a more suggestive manner. “See each other sometimes.” 

Oliver mulled the offer for over for a second. Being in a relationship would be complicated and tense. Oliver and Cedric still had games to play against each other, assuming that quidditch wouldn’t be cancelled, and a romance would put pressure on them both. Oliver also didn’t think that he would be able to deal with the shame of actually _being_ with another boy. He was the kind of person who easily separated sex from intimacy. When they came together it scared him. What Cedric was proposing had seemed like a simple alternative for their very physical feelings. At the time at least.

Oliver’s alarm woke him up thirty minutes before practice. He swore and tumbled out of his bed. He grimaced in pain as his elbow hit one of the wooden pallets that made up his hastily assembled bed structure. Oliver hadn’t exactly settled into adult life, but he was only a year out of school so it didn’t seem urgent that he stop drinking coffee out of cereal bowls and sleeping nearly on the floor in a shoebox apartment littered with takeout boxes. 

He rushed to his bathroom and doused his head and face in freezing water from the tap. Then he ran out of his apartment, making sure the door was locked. He frequently forgot to do it. 

Oliver’s coach barked at him almost all of practice. He was a reserve player on the Puddlemere United. His coach frequently said that he would probably advance faster than any reserve in the history of the team, but today didn’t seem particularly pleased. Oliver’s head was in the clouds. He missed opportunities to block goals that he normally would have had no trouble getting to and most of the time the coach addressed his players he had to snap at Oliver twice to get his attention. All he wanted was to go home and start a fire. He’d curl up and eat some stew, then sleep until two in the afternoon before getting up to go to the evening practice. 

Finally, the practice ended. It had started raining and by the time Coach blew his whistle the ground was muddy. Oliver trudged through the field towards the change rooms, where he stripped for a shower. 

Possibly it was the first time in his life that Oliver was relieved to be off the pitch. In the shower he overheard two of his teammates talking about him. They questioned what had gotten into my today. He was normally such a great player who commanded the attention of the coach and the team keeper. He stood in the shower, listening to them. Drowning in self-loathing and thoughts of Cedric, he soaped up and tried not to sob. He resolved to go back. This would never end if he didn’t talk to him. 

On a bright Saturday morning before the second Triwizard Task, Oliver apparated into Hogsmede and hiked the long hill up to Hogwarts. He could have hired someone to take him up, but the fresh air was calming. He used the time that he had to walk up to mull over what he was going to say. It wasn’t easy coming up with something. The feeling was reminiscent of a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl trying to find a conversation starter for the boy she liked. 

Hogwarts was as distant and grand as it had always been. It truly did feel magical to be back. This was the kind of building that evoked powerful feelings. So much history and intention in the same place. Oliver had missed Scotland in general, but seeing Hogwarts again tugged at his heartstrings. 

He went to converse with Harry briefly, needing an excuse for the impromptu visit. They conversed pleasantly about their shared sport and Harry’s brave exploits in the First Task (or so Oliver had read in the Daily Prophet, he’d never come back to see the rest of the champions fight their dragons.) Then, they bid each other goodbye and Oliver went on his hunt for Cedric. He had a pretty good idea where the boy would be. 

When he walked past Madame Pince she didn’t even blink. The school librarian certainly wouldn’t have noticed Oliver’s graduation from school the previous year; he could probably count the times he’d checked out a book on one finger. Oliver and Cedric did have a number of late-night moments in the Restricted Section, but if Madame Pince had ever found _that_ out they would both be strung up by their toenails. 

He was in his favourite spot, back by one of the large windows that overlooked the valley down where Hogsmede was. Cedric had always been one to appreciate the simple things in life: a warm cup of coffee, a nice dip in the lake, a beautiful view. Oliver was nervous to approach him. The light caught his honey hair in just the right way and in that moment he did not look real. He was a paragon of human immaculateness. He only bore two marks: a small scar on his jaw left behind from the healing of the dragon fire burns and a long rippled pink scar on his right hip bone. He’d gotten the second one from a bludger to the side at fourteen. Oliver remembered how much blood there had been. He hadn’t focussed on it at the time. There was no reason for him to care about it then.

But here Cedric was, causing Oliver’s heart to surge into his throat. Finally, he collected the courage to approach. _You were a Gryffindor at this school, Oliver. Don’t overthink this,_ he barked to himself. 

“Ced?” Cedric looked up as soon as he heard the nickname. Only his father and Oliver had ever called him that. At first, his eyes watered slightly and he gave Oliver a tender but mournful look. But as quickly as he’d raised his head, an angry look began to paint his face. He gathered his books and parchment, shoved them into his messenger bag, and stood. Pushing his chair in, he quietly but forcefully uttered the words that Oliver was dreading. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,”

“ _I don’t want to talk to you,_ ”

“ _I don’t want to talk to you,_ ”

Cedric’s voice from months before spoke in his head. It was nearly impossible to believe that someone as filled with sunshine as Cedric Diggory could be so heart-slashing. From December to March their relationship had been a simple rush of youthful fun. Sneaking around certainly excited them both. They saw each other around quidditch practices and games, in empty classrooms and the Room of Requirement. When they got lucky one boy would sneak the other into their respective dorm room. 

But, as all good things, it would not last. Cedric started to avoid Oliver. Their moments together grew fewer and fewer. Their first fight took place in the fifth year boys Hufflepuff dormitory during a mutual free period. It was the last week before spring break. Oliver was going to a two-week quidditch camp and Cedric was going to Thailand and Vietnam for a backpacking trip with his mother. It was hard for them not to remember the magical Christmas they’d spent together, sleeping in and have secret breakfasts. But they both had plans and they knew that it wouldn’t have done them any good if they weren’t leaving. Their relationship was a precariously placed breakable object. One wrong touch and it would fall off the shelf. 

The two of them had spoken in a quiet and harsh back and forth. Oliver was mad at Cedric for disappearing without an apparent cause and Cedric fumed. Inside, he was crumbling. Up until the beginning of February, he’d been perfectly fine with the kind of relationship he and Oliver had maintained. Quick sex whenever they were aroused and needed some release, and then they didn’t have to talk to each other and their sport wouldn’t be affected. But as more and more quidditch matches and practices got cancelled, the barrier they had put up towards a real relationship started to become flimsy. Oliver appeared to have no change of opinion towards how they should go about things. He simply kept lifting his trousers, planting a quick kiss on Cedric’s cheek, and bolting as soon as they’d both come. But Cedric found himself slowly but surely wishing that Oliver would stay. He started waking up from dreams of them hanging around with Oliver’s friends, where he’d keep his arm wrapped around Cedric’s shoulder possessively. In the evenings, when he watched Oliver from across the Great Hall, he imagined good night kisses at the end of dinner before they went their separate ways. Hiding out was no longer sexy to him. 

“Why are you avoiding me? We never talk anymore.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Cedric said, looking away.

“Ya are!” Oliver snapped.

“Well, what about you? You’re always angry whenever we see each other! We don’t talk and if we do all you want to do is complain about your players and your losses. It’s sickening to me that you never want to think about how I’m feeling.”

“Cedric, all I do is think about how you’re feeling.”

“No,” he said, “No, you don’t.”

Cedric was the one who had proposed this arrangement. It killed him to break it off now. Oliver made him feel so good, but he’d spent many late nights thinking about his feelings and he had come to the conclusion that these trysts were doing him more harm than good. 

Cedric sighed and rubbed his watering eyes. Almost no one knew that he was a crier. Oliver had never seen him like this before. “Oliver, I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He looked shocked. “Did I do something? Is it that you have a girlfriend now?”

Cedric knew that he owed him the truth. It would not be good enough to fob off someone he cared so much about with an avoidant excuse. “No, I fell in love with you. So, this doesn’t work anymore. I’m sorry.”

Oliver looked down at the floor. Cedric frowned at him, his heart beating fast and his nerves shooting up. The boy in front of him did not look betrayed or annoyed. In fact, he looked deep in thought. After a few moments, he took Cedric’s hand and met his gaze, looking up the twelve-centimetre difference between them. “Will you let me try to make you happy?”

Cedric was flabbergasted. “Look, I can’t promise that it’ll be perfect. It would be my first real relationship if I’m being honest. And I haven’t given this any thought… Any at all. But, I want to try.” 

They moved towards each other and shared a tender kiss. It was soft and slow. Cedric felt happily lightheaded. Foreheads pressed together, they stayed in the perfect moment they’d created for themselves.

It solved all of their problems. At least for a while. During Spring Break they wrote each other all kinds of letters and sent postcards. When they got back to school they saw each other more often and really talked. They supported each other. Cedric listened to Oliver share the pressure he felt from his father’s death and Oliver comforted Cedric about his ailing mother. She had been fine during their trip but her body wasn’t reacting well to the shift in temperature. 

The two of them had romantic dinners, late-night quidditch games, and weekend strolls by the Black Lake. It was a real relationship. But eventually, Cedric realized that they still hadn’t told anyone. He had told his best friend, Cho Chang, who’d reacted supportively. But the two of them hadn’t collectively been open. He tried and failed to remember one time where Oliver had taken his hand in the hall. 

One day, during one of their weekend walks, he brought it up for discussion. “Why haven’t we told anyone about us?” Cedric asked, kicking up a bit of dirt. They had been quiet up until now, just holding hands and looking at the water.

“Well, other people just complicate things. I thought you liked us how we were?” 

“I do, but it doesn’t really feel real if no one is aware of it except for us and Cho.”

Oliver grimaced and let go of Cedric’s hand. “You told Cho about us?” Cedric cursed himself for loving Oliver’s accent so much. Even when he said horrible things his voice was still warm and homey. 

“She’s my best friend, Oliver.”

“I know that,” he responded bitterly.

“Are you ashamed of me or something? I don’t mean to sound pompous but a lot of people at this school would pay a pouch of galleons to be in your place right now.” Cedric knew it was a horrible thing to say as soon as it had come out of his mouth. It didn’t sound like him. Those words came from a deep spot inside of him that he tried to push away. He’d always tried to be good. He wanted everyone to be equal and life to fair. 

“This isn’t about you. Yer know if this gets out it could ruin my chances at a career? It’s fine for you. You don’t want to play professionally. But they won’t let anyone like us on the team.”

“Anyone, like us?” 

“Ya know what I mean.” 

Cedric shook his head. He moved further away from Oliver. He couldn’t stand when they fought. Things had been going decently well since they had decided to be together for real. They had the occasional spat, but it was never anything serious. This seemed to take a turn for the worst. “Even my father is understanding of the fact that I want to be with men,” Cedric backtracked at the shocked look on Oliver’s face. “He doesn’t know about you. Just me. But he still gets it.” Cedric’s anger was boiling in his throat. “You don’t… You’re just…”

“Cedric, I’m sorry,” He tried to reach for his hand, but the tone in his voice made Cedric even angrier than he already was. He flinched away.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said bitterly, storming off back up towards the castle. Oliver stood there dejectedly, watching him go.

“ _I don’t want to talk to you,_ ”

“ _I don’t want to talk to you,_ ”

Madame Pince tracked Cedric with her eyes. Curiosity at his anger bled behind them. Oliver stood with the same dark cloud from May over him. Yanked back into the present by the slam of a book, he heard Cedric’s footsteps recede down the library aisles. His robes billowed behind him and his feet made clacks on the stone floor.

Oliver shivered and ran a hand through his hair, asking himself whether it would be a good idea to follow him. He concluded that it would not be, and left the library. 

As Cedric stood on the dock listening to the commentary announcing the Second Task, he could not help but gaze up towards the stands. Oliver’s arrival in the library the weekend before had thrown him off. He couldn’t see Oliver. A small pain appeared in his abdomen, but he ignored it in favour of shaking his limbs in preparation for the frigid water. Harry Potter looked to be suffering a terrible feat next to him. He tried to show him concern but he was distracted. He looked at the stands again. There he was. The pain in Cedric’s stomach dissipated. He threw Oliver the stupidest wave (one which Oliver probably could not see since he was in the second tower.) Then he spent the rest of the time the task was discussed mentally hitting himself. He was ruminating so much that he didn’t realize he had an easy excuse in the dozens of girls screaming his name. 

Before he was aware of what happening Harry was practically turning purple and a shot from the cannon was fired. Cedric looked to Harry, then dove into the blackness in front of him. 

Oliver _had_ seen the wave. He hid a blush behind the sleeve of his turtleneck and clapped for Cedric and Harry, who’d stopped convulsing and had leaped into the lake.The hour went by slowly. Oliver wondered about the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of the still water. Cedric was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met. In fact, the first time Oliver met Cedric was not on the quidditch pitch, but in third year Transfiguration. Oliver had needed to re-do transfiguration on account of his missed days. All quidditch-injury related. And of course, Cedric had been bumped up from second to third on account of his exemplary progress in first year. He sat at the front, making friends with everyone, while Oliver was ashamed of being behind and hid in the back. 

He often pondered those little memories. He could now recall many moments that Cedric took place in at a time when Oliver could have cared less that he existed. He found it funny what emerged from the recesses of his brain sometimes. Like a small and blurry memory he had of walking by the frosted windowpanes of Madam Puddifoot’s and seeing Cedric on his first date. He missed him, it was true. That’s why all of this was coming up.

Below the water, Cedric tried to keep a clear head. As he swam deeper and deeper he could finally feel himself start to breathe. He was proud of his Bubblehead charm. He’d spent weeks practicing. When he saw Cho, he remembered the speech. 

_Something you love has been taken from you._

“I don’t need this kind of fucking distraction,” Cedric said to himself. He imagined that if he were talking to someone it would sound distant. Behind the charm, there would be no point. 

_Something you love has been taken from you._

Cedric wanted to rip his hair out. Going towards Cho, he could not help but wonder what this exact moment would be like in a parallel universe. Specifically a parallel universe where Oliver could have just been who Cedric wanted him to be. Love was not like welding a piece of metal. You could not bend your lover to fit your exact specifications. Cedric learned that the hard way. 

_Something you love has been taken from you_.

That was true. 

With every tick of the clock, Oliver debated whether or not he should try to speak with Cedric again. It was like a game of He Loves Me, He Loves Me not. Each tick was a new decision. Finally, the first champion who’d managed the task sprung out of the water. Oliver hadn’t been paying attention but when he realized it was Cedric he joined in on the cheers and claps of the crowd. He’d landed on _he loves me_.

Back at the castle, Oliver dodged hellos from the people he’d known at school. He apologized for being in a rush. He was a man on a mission and he would not let anything hinder his path. 

“Cedric!” He called down the hallway. Oliver knew that it was him. He wore a large brown woollen sweater and swim trunks. His hair was wet and curling at the ends and the bottom part of his yellow Hogwarts shirt was peaking out from underneath the sweater. “Cedric!” He tried again.

Cedric turned around and scoffed, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” His accent was that biting perfect English Oliver always heard in his head. He marched right up to Oliver and stared down at him. “I said that I didn’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.” He said it calmly, but the look in his eyes sent chills down Oliver’s spine.

“Please,” it came out in a whimper. “I just… I know you’re angry with me. But please, talk to me.”

Cedric looked at him for a moment, breathing heavily. He looked like someone doing hard math. Eventually, he sighed and said, “Wait for me by the courtyard door.” 

Cedric went to the end of the hallway and walked down the stairs to the basement. Oliver turned and went the other way. He waited and Cedric came up to him fifteen minutes later, wearing the same sweater but with drier hair and new clothes otherwise. He also wore a long grey wool coat overtop. Oliver must have looked confused, because Cedric said, “Off to London then?” 

“Are you allowed to leave?” Oliver narrowed his eyes. 

“It’s Friday. Early weekend.”

“But… It’s school.”

“They changed the rules,” Cedric said opening the door for Oliver. 

He frowned. “Are you sure?” 

Cedric rolled his eyes. “Are you coming or not? Can’t risk anyone seeing you with me, can we?” Cedric said bitterly. Oliver didn’t answer. It was clearly a rhetorical question. He followed Cedric out the door and into the snow. They walked until they had left the lines dictating the grounds, then Cedric held out his arm. “Where do you want to go?” 

“My apartment I guess,” 

“I kind of fancied the idea of food.”

“Well, I could make you some.”

“I’m missing dinner for this. Since when can you make something other than peanut butter toast?”

Oliver laughed in a taken-aback kind of fashion. He wasn’t lying. “Okay, restaurant it is then. Somewhere in Diagon Alley?”

“What about your quidditch career?” Cedric’s digs started to make him angry. 

“Stop pushing me away.”

“You pushed me away.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes, then tipped his head back and held his face in his hands briefly. Then he said, “I want us to talk. I really do. You have no idea how much I miss you Ced. But I can’t talk to you if you’re going to defy me like a five-year-old.” 

Finally, he conceded. “Let’s go to the Indian place near the Leaky.” 

They got curry and didn’t speak for the first half of the meal. Cedric stuffed his face joyfully, starved from his feat earlier in the day. Oliver just pushed his rice around with his naan, alternating between looking at his plate and Cedric. “I thought you wanted to talk to me,” Cedric said eventually. Oliver nodded, taking a bite of his food. “Well, talk then. Say what you have to say. I’m listening. Come up with some excuse for breaking my heart.” 

“You said you wouldn’t do this,” 

“I never promised. I just agreed.” Cedric said. He took a gulp of his mango lassi and scrutinized his ex-lover, who seemed so far away even though he was just on the other end of the teak table. They both had so many words inside their heads. But after so much time apart it felt strange, pointless even, to share them. “Do you even remember how torturous it was for me? You didn’t want anyone to know, and eventually, I gave up trying to nag you about it. And then in July, you told me that you couldn’t fucking do it anymore. _You!_ How is it fair that I suffered for months trying to wait for you to be comfortable with yourself and our relationship and you just decide in one moment that you can’t do it anymore?” Cedric wasn’t yelling but there was a good chance that the Indian family who ran the restaurant had begun to watch them. It was a slow night, they were the only two eating in and there’d only been three takeouts since they’d arrived.

“Look, Cedric, I don’t really know what I can say. I just wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell you how ashamed I was feeling. I could sense that you were unhappy and I wanted so badly to change that. Everything just made me feel so useless. It just, doesn’t feel right to say anymore.” 

“Well, then we’ll finish our food and I’ll go back to school.” 

Oliver nodded and they finished their meals in silence. He tried to pay for Cedric’s portion of the food but Cedric wouldn’t let him. If he did then it would feel like a date and that is the last thing he wanted. He would pay on his own like he’d done everything else on his own for the past school year, and most of his life.

They left the restaurant. Snow drifted down lightly as they walked up the street. That’s when Cedric began to cry. It wasn’t dramatic or loud, just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. But Oliver noticed. He stopped him and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“I missed you,” Cedric said, throwing his arms around Oliver’s shoulders and burying his nose in his winter coat. Hesitantly, Oliver wrapped his arms around Cedric. He was confused by the abrupt change in emotion. Cedric sobbed into his body. “I’m fucking scared.” His words were muffled by Oliver’s coat. He pulled back and said, “You were the only person who never put pressure on me.”

“Oh come on. You said it yourself, I pretty much forced you not to tell anyone about us. You were sixteen, you just wanted a good relationship and I made you unhappy.”

“It’s not the same.” He said, quaking, holding onto to Oliver’s elbows for dear life. He got closer and pressed his forehead against Oliver’s. Then, he kissed him. It was a light, soft kiss. It still shocked them both though.

How was it that life never made sense? 

“Come on,” Oliver said, keeping an arm wrapped around Cedric’s shoulder and using his other arm to rub Cedric’s side. “I’ll take you to my place. You can sleep on the couch and go back at first light.” 

Cedric sniffled and wiped a stray tear away. “I’m not allowed to be away a night.” He said sorrowfully.

“Well, then I’ll come with you,”

“No, no. Take me to your place. It’s not a big deal. I’ll come up with an excuse.” 

The next morning, Oliver brought coffee to Cedric. He put the coffee down on the side table at the head of the couch and sat by Cedric’s feet. He stirred and looked up, weight on his elbows and hair flopping into his eyes. “Coffee,” Oliver said, throwing a look to the table. Cedric thanked him and reached back. He noticed the feeling of a warm thumb brushing against his cold leg. “So, I couldn’t sleep and I was wanting to ask if last night was you forgiving me?”

Cedric thought about his question. He did want to forgive Oliver. He wanted to move forward. He’d spent so many nights alone in his cold bed, listening to the breaths of his dorm mates and conjuring up Oliver’s face in his head. He knew that he should take more time and that they should talk more. That would be the adult thing to do. The mature thing. But Cedric was sad and he wanted Oliver in his life again. “If it was would you hold it against me?” Oliver shook his head and mouthed the word ‘no.’ Then he leaned down to Cedric. After that, Cedric told him about his skepticism towards the Last Task. “That’s what I meant last night, when I told you I was scared.”

“Cedric, come on. You have to do it. You know that you’ll be great! I’ll come see you and everything.”

“You came to see all of them, didn’t you?” Oliver nodded. Cedric gripped his hand, tracing the lines of his palm with one of his long fingers. “I don’t think I can do this. The others were rather safe, practicable. This one looks to be dangerous.”

“Do you know what it is yet?” Oliver asked. Cedric shook his head no. “No matter what you’ll win. I love Harry, but you’re the winner.”

“You love Harry huh?” Cedric raised his eyebrows, and Oliver elbowed him in the stomach. They had a playful little wrestle. “I did miss you.” 

Oliver looked down mournfully. “Aye, me too.” He looked back up. “Now, let’s get you back. We’ll see each other in June. Maybe a few weekends in between too. And… I don’t want to promise anything, I mean it…” Oliver gave him a warning look. “But, when you’ve got your trophy, I might not be opposed to meeting your father.”

Cedric beamed, “Really?” He resolved to do the task. Whatever it was, he could do it. Even if he didn’t win, he’d still have Oliver. And now people would know. 

They both counted the weeks down until June. Every once in awhile Oliver apparated to Hogsmede so that they could meet, but besides that they did not speak very often. The days grew longer and both young men were filled with anticipation. Oliver was playing at full capacity once again and Cedric was flying through his studies. Mission happiness accomplished. 

The day finally arrived. Oliver gave Cedric a kiss for good luck away from view. The band was playing and it truly seemed as if everything was going to be fine. Cedric’s heart was light. As he walked towards the maze he tried to figure out how he would introduce Oliver to his father.

It was a fanciful preoccupation to keep. No one would ever know exactly what had happened to Cedric in the maze. It was likely that even if he had come out of the Tournament unscathed, he never would have been the same. He wouldn’t have been Oliver’s Cedric. 

At first, no one knew what was happening. There were shocked gasps and a scream or two in the front. Everyone craned their necks. More screams and cries. That’s when everyone stood. Oliver followed the silent directive of the crowd and stood as well. He was curious to see what everyone was so shocked about. Then, emptiness. He was empty. The undersides of Cedric’s arms had grass stains all over them. Harry was sobbing onto his body and he just stared out in the void, his eyes lifeless. 

_What’s the point of fixing your relationship if something like this is moments away?_

_I told him… I told him to do it. I believed in him. I said he could win. It just made everything worse. He would have had to go anyway. But maybe if I hadn’t pushed him so much then he wouldn’t have tried as hard. Wherever the other champions are now… They’re still alive._

Amos Diggory had run onto the scene. His face carried a wild look that was accompanied by tears. He shouted things that no one could comprehend and almost collapsed into the ground next to his only son. _I was supposed to meet you today_. 

The crowd surged forward. People tried to leave or get closer. There were so many emotions floating up and mixing together in the air. It was like a virus.

_I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to do anything to make it happen. I should have left it._

Cedric’s dead body filled his eyes. He couldn’t get away from it. There was too much going around him. Oliver needed to get out. Even when he closed he saw Cedric. Oliver saw every moment that existed in his head in which Cedric appeared. Transfiguration class, the sorting of the first years, every single quidditch match, the first time they touched. He shut his eyes so tight that he saw stars and colours. He was aching and nauseous. The world around him was spinning out of control and there was nothing to grab onto. He told himself that he would look just once, one more time. He needed to know if he was really dead. His green eyes flew open and the pain returned tenfold. His name was etched on his skin: _Cedric, Cedric, Cedric_. 

_I love you._

A misstep combined with the continuous rushing of the crowd every which way sent Oliver falling forward. His feet searched desperately for a stable place but he tripped down six maybe seven rows of stands, almost floating on the crowd. When he fell, he fell hard. He missed the last row and there was no one properly aligned with him. He thudded straight to the ground. His back landed first and his head was forced back. The last conscious thought he had was a weak contemplation that his skull might have cracked against the concrete. 

Time in St. Mungo’s passed quickly. Sometimes it didn’t pass at all. Oliver was always nauseous and dizzy. His memories were spread out in front of him like a puzzle he had to put back together. The moments were like a roll of film. Everything was neat and easy to understand until his first year of school. Bit by bit things started to seem distant. Somethings he still remembered but it felt like watching someone else’s life. Someone had taken a knife and chosen slides to slice at random. As the years went on there were more cuts and slashes. In second year it was useless things: homework assignments, the model number of the new broom he wanted, the rim of his father’s glasses shining in the sun. In third year it was people. Places and faces without names that needed to be known. Then, as his memories started getting closer to him sitting in the hospital ward, they started not to exist at all. Oliver knew they were there, but the voices were warbled, the pictures were blurry, and everything was in black and white. There was a birthday cake. Then a long elegant hand holding his. A blocked quaffle. 

“The spell will give him back his memories, but it will take time Mrs. Wood.” 

“How long?”

“In muggle medicine there would certainly be more gaps. They just monitor since there’s not really a cure. We are confident that Oliver’s cognition will eventually be fully restored. But the brain is a curious thing. It could be weeks, it could be years. And it truly was an atrocious head injury, falling from that height. He’s only been here a week, give it time. Even if he doesn’t remember everything you’ll be able to take him back to his apartment soon, or take him home with you, though I would advise against that.”

“So he should go back to the apartment?”

“He remembers how to do everything, Mrs. Wood. He can add and speak Gaelic. Clean and remember the rules of quidditch. Cook himself food.”

“Well, Oliver’s never been able to cook himself food, so that would be a miracle.”

Oliver heard sniffling and laughing on the other side of the room. His mum wasn’t handling Oliver’s distance very well. He couldn’t remember his father’s death. The healer brought her out of the room and down the hallway, telling her he’d update her on anything necessary. 

Oliver recovered from his physical symptoms quickly. Soon, he was able to go home. It was weird being alone in the apartment after all those weeks in the hospital. On his first night back he wandered around getting reacquainted with the rooms. He opened drawers in the kitchen and the bathroom to find everything’s place. He slept on the floor of the living room because he wasn’t quite ready to be in his room again.

Time went by and he started to be comfortable back in his space. He finally bought a bed frame and a recipe book. He grew up all at once. He had time to think and become mature. He missed Cedric’s funeral. He didn’t know yet that he would have gone. 

Eventually, his healer gave him the okay to start playing quidditch again. It came back to him quickly. It was what he was born to do after all. Being back at work made things normal again, but there was still an emptiness inside of him that he couldn’t quite grasp. The gaps in his memories became more irritating. His mom would talk about events he didn’t understand and he couldn’t remember any of the Puddlemere inside jokes. It was all so frustrating. He spent Sunday afternoons looking through photo albums with his mum and visiting his father’s grave. His friends made him remember. Katie Bell visited him every Wednesday for coffee. She cared about him and he grew to care about her. There was something beautiful about her acceptance of him.

Things got better. When he’d first gotten back to his apartment Oliver had easily found his clothes. They were in the first dresser he checked. There was another chest of drawers on the other side of the room, but Oliver ignored it. Possibly it was just there for decoration, though Oliver couldn’t see why he would have ever felt the need to decorate. It was sort of a foreign concept. He ignored the drawers, thinking that whatever they contained could wait. He was starting to remember things so it didn’t matter. But after a year with Katie, they decided to move in together and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

It was all just boxes. They transported everything to Katie’s townhouse and Oliver let them be. 

“Why are you hiding from the boxes?” Katie asked him one night at dinner.

“I can’t explain it,” Oliver told her. He shivered. “At first it felt like it didn’t matter. Now I feel like there’s something that will hurt in there.” 

She reached across the table to take Oliver’s hand. “Maybe it will hurt but maybe it’s something you have to do to move past what you’re feeling. You don’t tell me things but I can see how much pain you’re in.” There was so much kindness in her eyes and in her smile. She reminded him of someone else for a second. But he couldn’t remember who.

Despite Katie’s advice, he let the boxes be. But one day he woke up with tears in his eyes, grieving again for something he couldn’t reach. Frustration flooded his body. It was five-thirty in the morning. He sat up and stared across the room at the small pile of boxes. Some were bigger than others but they were all relatively small. The one that stood out to him the most was placed precariously on top of the pile. It was an ornate little photo box with foreign words carved into it. _Cho em, tình yêu của anh_. Oliver pulled the covers back and slid out of the bed, careful not to wake Katie. He crept across the floor, avoiding the creaky spots and picked up the box. 

Inside there were letters and pictures. Dozens of them. At first, Oliver thought they might be from different people; the envelopes were all different shapes and colours and there were postcards from all sorts of places. But as he flipped through them he saw that they were all the written in the same cursive. 

_Cedric Diggory_

_Number 2 Gittisham Rd._

_Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England_

_DT7 3EG_

_Cedric Diggory_

_The Riva Surya Hotel_

_23 Phra Athit Rd, Chana Songkhram, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok 10200, Thailand_

_Cedric Diggory_

_The Little Charm Hanoi Hostel_

_44 Hàng Bồ, Hoàn Kiếm, Hà Nội 100000,_

_Vietnam_

There were so many of them. Oliver shook. Why was there so much correspondence between him and Cedric Diggory? He supposed that the only way to find out was to read the letters and look through the pictures. So at five-thirty in the morning, he reopened letter after letter. Two years worth of anger and love and mourning and heartbreak spilled out onto his hardwood floor. He was finally beginning to fit the pieces together. The photos of them laughing and flying. There was one where Cedric tapped Cedric on the nose and Oliver wrapped his arms around him, pushing him down. The box was like a section of his brain that was coming back all at once. 

At seven Katie woke up and came over. “So, what treasures did you find?” A tear or two escaped Oliver’s eyes and Katie frowned at him, sitting down next to him and wrapping her arms around his shaking body. She leaned her head on his shoulder and they sat there for a while. She stayed with Oliver until he got to the last letters. They weren’t in order of time, they had noticed.

_March 24th, 1994_

_Oliver,_

_Today we were in Ninh Bình on one of those rustic rowboats that doesn’t sail quite right. Last night it rained, making a low hanging mist to greet us at the dock. Mum and I woke up early. Pushing sleep out of our eyes we clobbered down to the water as fast as we could to beat anyone else to it. Before I opened my eyes this morning I felt you there, even when I stretched myself out into the cold spots of the bed. Mum had to shout at me three times that we’d miss our guide._

_I am absolutely full of missing you. The crystalline coasts haven’t remedied anything inside of me. I’m still angry and upset and my longing is undiluted. I can’t tell if I’m feeling the worst I’ve ever felt or if I am the happiest I’ve ever been._

_We were all alone in the middle of the bay. Just our guide and us in one tiny boat. I guess waking up at four in the morning was worth it. When the sun reached its comfort point in the sky I dove out of the boat and swam down as far as I could. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I sank myself down far enough I might stop thinking of you for just a second. But you were there, eyes closed, sinking yourself with me._

_You bother me so much because you bring out thoughts I’d rather ignore. That’s healthy though. You make me face my fears. I’m waiting for the breeze of your breath on my cheek. I’m waiting to kiss you again, slow and gentle._

_I hope that you’re waiting for me._

_Love,_

_Ced_

There were more tears in his eyes now. He held the letter firmly, his hand shaking. Tears started to _plop!_ onto the letters and run down the paper, so he folded it and tucked it away in the cream envelope. He pushed his palms against his eyes and sniffled. Katie kissed the side of his face tenderly.

“Did you know about this?” Oliver asked her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think anyone did except for the two of you.”

He remembered him. Not very well or very clearly. But at least he saw him. The blue eyes, the curls, the kind heart. He remembered the taste of vanilla birthday cake, scalding bathwater, and the silky feel of Cedric’s Hufflepuff sheets. He felt the pain again but it was oddly comfortable. Finally, there was a reason for feeling so sick and lonely even when he was indescribably happy. He understood what he’d been unknowingly grieving for the past year. Maybe he hadn’t grasped the details yet, but it was a start. 

He took a deep breath and pulled another letter out of the box. 

_June 23rd, 1995_

Katie gasped a little at the date. Everyone remembered the last task of the Triwizard tournament. She had been there that day. It would probably be best to leave him, she figured. This was most certainly be the last letter he had written. It was the last in the box if anything. “I think I’ll go make some tea.” She stood up and headed to the kitchen. Before she was out the door of the room Oliver called her back. The 8 AM sun created a glazed look against her face and hair.

“Stay,”

“Oliver, I think you should read that one alone.” She told him. He gave her a confused look. “The date… It was the night before he died, love. Voldemort killed him the next evening.”

Katie’s words gave the letter more meaning. More clarity. Oliver knew that Cedric Diggory was deceased, everyone did. People had told him because it was the same day he’d hit his head. It didn’t feel like something personal at the time. 

Slowly, he took the parchment out of the crisp white envelope. 

_My beloved Oliver,_

_Rumi said that you have to keep breaking your heart until it opens. You’ve broken my heart and I’ve felt the pain. But I gave you my heart, it was yours to break. I’d like to hope that your heart is mine to break too. No matter where this goes, no matter what the pain, it was worth it. It was worth loving you._

_Thank you for opening me up to the world._

_Thank you for seeing me._

_Your Cedric_


End file.
